


Yuuri Katsuki, accidental Olympian and part-time crossdresser

by DawnOfTomorrow



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Did I mention Victor is thirsty? He is, Light-hearted drama, M/M, Mari does too, Minako needs a Drink, Misunderstandings, Poor Yakov has to put up with Victor, Rhythmic Gymnastics AU, Victor Nikiforov is thirsty, Victor is a Skater, Yuuri Katsuki looks good in women's clothing, Yuuri is a Gymnast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:26:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnOfTomorrow/pseuds/DawnOfTomorrow
Summary: AU where Yuuri’s passion is rhythmic gymnastics. When the Japanese Olympian in the all-female sport is injured, he takes her place, disguised as a girl. He only accepts because not doing so could end her career... Unbeknownst to Yuuri his childhood crush Victor Nikiforov is watching. Yuuri wins gold and when the very gay Victor watches the female athlete, he falls in love with a ‘woman’ for the first time ever and pursues her in typical way-too-much fashion.Yuuri tries to turn him down several times, he really does. Somehow, instead, he goes on dates with Victor dressed as a girl… will Victor figure him out? Minako thinks he should proooobably mention it before their wedding night, Yuuri still thinks he’ll eventually, maybe turn Victor down.





	Yuuri Katsuki, accidental Olympian and part-time crossdresser

Yuuri Katsuki was a little odd, he knew that. Having started ballet at a young age, he always knew that there was something else he wanted to do – a sport, yes, but not quite dance. He discovered his first love – closely followed by his second, but more on that later – at the age of nine, when his family went to see a gymnastics competition near Hasetsu.

Rhythmic gymnastics, Yuuri realised, were what he wanted to do, more than anything. At first, his parents didn’t have the heart to tell him no, and by the time he realised that the sport was ENTIRELY female, it was already too late – Yuuri was several years in and one of the best gymnasts… ever, really. Even with his anxiety, he knew that.

His second love he found when he was 12 years old and his friend showed him a video of a figure skater a few years older than them – Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri covered his wall in posters of the man, eagerly soaked up every bit of info on him, and even tried skating himself. He liked it, liked the performance aspect of it, but ultimately rhythmic gymnastics was his first love and won out over Victor.

By the time he was 16, Yuuri was one of the most highly-respected rhythmic gymnastics teachers in the country, his gender all but forgotten by aspiring pro gymnasts. Yuuri stayed short, slim, flexible, so his being male wasn’t much of an issue while teaching female athletes. Sure, he got the odd comment or strange look, but really, that was it. Hardly a big deal to Yuuri.

The ‘big deal’ as it was, came when he was 19 and coaching a girl selected for the Sochi Olympics. Against his advice, she went out with friends and ended up drinking… drunk as she was, she fell and broke her leg the night before the events were set to begin.

Of course, the whole thing would have been a huge embarrassment for Japan as a nation… and so, Minako, the girl’s main coach, suggested a solution. By all rights, Yuuri SHOULD have said no.

Unfortunately, he didn’t. No, when Minako handed him the girl’s performance outfit and told him to try it on, like a complete idiot… he did. To his horror, it fit him perfectly. Their student – 18-year old Yuuri Kisagawa – apparently had the exact same body-shape as Yuuri. He wasn’t sure which one, but one of them definitely ought to be offended by that.

That said, Yuuri let himself be convinced by Minako, and come morning, he was getting his hair and makeup done, sat in a make-up chair with his eyes closed, in order to participate in the Olympics in the other Yuuri’s place. “No, but this is perfect!” Minako declared as she did… something to his face. He didn’t know what.

“How is this _perfect_? It’s against the rules! We’ll be a laughing stock!” He whined, not for the first time that morning.

“Not at all! You know the routines better than Yuu-chan did, and between you and me and the make-up, you’re the better dancer too. So, go outside, twirl your clubs and win Japan a gold medal.”

“Minako, if we get caught-” Something pinched his nose. “You WON’T get caught. That’s the beauty of it! You two have the same colouring, and quite frankly, in make-up, you look similar anyway. Not to mention… this will be your only chance to actually compete in this sport.”

He sighed deeply – that much was true, at least. “What if I mess up? What if I get scared like I used to-” He was silenced by lipstick being applied a little too forcefully to his mouth.

“That was skating, this is gymnastics. You’ve NEVER been anxious about these performances before. Now stop griping, get yourself together and review the performances.”

  
“…Yes, sensei. It’s clubs, hoop, ball and then ribbon.” Yuuri was up after two more athletes – a Russian girl and a Bulgarian one.

“Perfect. Your make-up is almost done too. You look hot, _Yuu-chan_.” Minako giggled and Yuuri opened his eyes for the first time in about half an hour. A glance in the mirror revealed what he’d feared – she was right.

Pursing his lips, Yuuri had to admit that he looked… pretty. Definitely not very masculine, not with eye-shadow, mascara and lipstick. He sighed deeply and looked down at his leotard – the built-in bra-cups gave him enough of a hint of boobs that nobody would think to question it. For once, the notoriously flat chests of gymnasts were an advantage in something.

He was dressed in a white, swan-lake inspired leotard with silvery frills over his hips, similar silver embellishments on his ankles and wrists. It was a pretty enough costume, and really not the one he minded wearing – that honour went to the outfit he was due to change into for his ball performance later.

Twirling in a circle one last time to confirm he looked… female, and wasn’t that a weird thought, Yuuri squared his shoulders and followed Minako from the prep-area to the warm-up one.

Nobody looked twice at him. A slim, black-haired Japanese girl was what people expected, and it was precisely what people saw when they looked. It was equally odd and exciting – not that Yuuri wanted to cross-dress – he was gay but that wasn’t his thing – but Minako hadn’t been far off. He’d dreamed his entire life of getting to compete in a rhythmic gymnastics event and now he’d get that honour… and at the Olympics, no less.

Taking a deep breath, he started stretching.

* * *

22-year old Victor Nikiforov was bored out of his mind at the Summer Olympics. He’d been invited for some publicity stunt he couldn’t even remember, and then he’d been asked to stay and watch some of the events… and his coach had called him over to watch rhythmic gymnastics of all things.

To a man as profoundly gay as him, that was just about the least-interesting event in the whole circuit. Yakov had outright refused his requests to watch the swimmers, or at least the divers, well-aware of his skater’s tastes and unwilling to listen to him squeal about it all day.

Yakov wasn’t unsympathetic, but in a country as… well, as repressed as Russia, the last thing the World Champ skater needed was a scandal about his sexuality. Victor had merely rolled his eyes – he’d heard the same speech many times, and he was sick of it.

Moodily, he stared at the line-up of athletes. Sixteen girls, all between the ages of fifteen and 23, he knew. His eyes lingered on the third one in the line-up. Asian, pretty. She moved a little different from the others though, and even that minor spark of interest was more than he had expected, so he decided to roll with it.

He missed her name in the announcements but decided to watch for her performance anyway. The first girl – Russian, he’d been introduced, she was boring – went through her performance with some kind of drumstick-like things, before a Bulgarian girl danced with a small ball.

Why did people even _watch_ rhythmic gymnastics? He sighed. At least the music choices were good, he had to admit. Then… then that girl from before came out. She too carried a pair of those weirdly shaped baton things. He sat back, curious if she would manage to make them look less stupid.

Then the music began playing, and immediately, Victor was amused. The song that played was something like slow jazz, a woman softly crooning as the girl with the sticks started moving… and oh, just like that, Victor was watching properly.

The clubs, they were called clubs, he remembered, didn’t look stupid in her hands. They looked… suggestive. Sexy, even, somehow. The girl moved them, threw and swung them as if she’d done it all her life – she probably had, he realised – as if they were a natural part of her body.

When the music was over, when she came to a stop in her final pose, back bent and chest pushed up, Victor was… disappointed almost. Oh.

Yakov gave him a curious look. “Interested, suddenly?” “No, this sport is stupid. That girl, though… what was her name?” His coach snickered. “Yuuri Kisagawa. She has three more performances today, a little later. I take it you want to see them?”

He shrugged. “Since we’re here.”

* * *

Several hours and multiple performances later, Yuuri finally felt his nerves catching up to him. He was about to give his last performance, and so far… well, so far it had been going spectacularly. He was several points ahead of the Russian that was favoured to win, and unless he messed up severely, he was almost guaranteed a medal of some kind at least.

That was… odd. Yuuri knew he was good, of course, but seeing himself – more or less – on an actual scoreboard, was a different experience altogether. Minako gave him a hug after his ball performance and immediately pulled a jacket around his shoulder.

“Good job, Yuuri.” She praised, and it HAD been a good job – he’d come within a point of the current world record. That was nothing to scoff at.

Still, his best event was yet to come – the ribbon. It had been his favourite since he’d first been handed one of the colourful pieces of fabric. For this performance, his ribbon was a scarlet red, to go with a black and silver outfit he liked… but then, anything was better than the pink unitard he’d had to wear for his ball performance.

He hated everything about it and very nearly tore the seams when he yanked off the thing in the dressing room. Now he was waiting for his – fake – name to be called for his last performance, his heart racing, palms sweaty as he held on to his ribbon with trembling fingers.

The announcement came – it was time to dance. After one last hug from Minako, he made his way out to the performance area, clearing his mind of everything but the ribbon – nothing else mattered. He took his position, waited for the tell-tale beep that would tell him to start moving.

* * *

By the time Yuuri’s fourth performance rolled around, Victor had to admit that he was genuinely interested in her. That was… unusual to say the least. Even Yakov said so when he saw Victor was on the edge of the seat every time she came on.

He was fascinated by the way she moved, by her eyes – from some distance away, he could only make out that her eyes were the colour of chocolate, but he knew he wanted to see them up close. Her last outfit was breath-taking.

She looked a little more… masculine, almost, in it, despite the many, many sparkly rhinestones on the black fabric. The red ribbon she carried was the same colour as her lips and for the first time in his entire life, Victor found himself wanting to know what red lipstick tasted like.

The performance began, and Victor felt himself trembling almost, watching the way she moved. The ribbon moved around her, hardly seemed connected to her at all. If anything, it looked like the ribbon was dancing for her, trying to impress her, trying to gain her attention, her favour, as she danced for herself.

Victor had never empathised with a piece of fabric more.

The performance was over far too quickly, and he was only dimly aware of the loud applause that rang through the room – Yuuri Kisagawa had won gold – none of the other performers could even achieve high enough scores to hope to beat her.

“Wow.” He leaned over to Yakov. “Will she be at the banquet tonight?” The older man squinted at him. “I’d imagine so. Why?” Victor beamed. “I NEED to meet her. Introduce me, Yakov!”

“Vitya… are you feeling alright?”

“Never better. So, when can I meet her? I want to meet her now! We can go backstage, right?” His coach groaned in annoyance.

* * *

Yuuri Katsuki had won a gold medal for Japan at the Olympics. In Rhythmic Gymnastics, a sport his gender didn’t even have an Olympic division in – or any division, really. Minako had grabbed him and practically forced him to an empty changing room as soon as he’d stepped away from the couch on which he’d received the score.

He’d thank her for it later, for the time being, he had to suffer through a panic attack. He’d done it – he’d won a GOLD MEDAL. By lying to the Olympic committee and pretending to be his own student and a woman.

Chest tight, breath coming in harsh gasps that felt like they might choke him, he curled in on himself, hands shaking as they clenched around his knees. He had no idea how long it lasted for, but he knew it was a bad one when his muscles ached as the shaking eased up, as his body slowly allowed him to breathe again.

He took a few more minutes, relieved that, at least, he hadn’t cried. The changing room had a mirror, thankfully, and so he could adjust himself to be presentable again before stepping outside. Minako – familiar with his anxiety since he had been a child – had gone off to get him a bottle of water and a towel.

He accepted both happily, smiling as best as he could. Minako didn’t return the smile. That could only mean one thing… bad news.

“What’s wrong?” His teacher sighed deeply. “I have… unpleasant news, I’m afraid. It’s about… the banquet tonight.”

“What about it? I’m obviously not going.” Yuuri ‘Kisagawa’ was going to feel unwell and skip, at least that was the plan.

“I’m afraid you HAVE to go. Orders from above. Apparently, someone – another athlete – specifically requested you go. It’s been made clear to me that you can’t refuse. I’m sorry Yuuri. You won’t have to stay long, but you do have to go.”

“What… but… what athlete?” She cleared her throats awkwardly. “That’s, I suppose the good news? If you can call it that? You know him. Victor Nikiforov.”

“The… skater? Why is he even HERE? He SAW me?”

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri. He’s here as a speaker on behalf of Russian athletes in the Olympics and, well, apparently, he desperately wants to meet you. With him being a Russian hero, we can’t really refuse. It’s okay though. I’ll lend you a dress and such. It’ll be fine.”

Yuuri didn’t think it would be, not at all.

* * *

Victor hadn’t been that nervous since he’d been a young teenager and realised that watching his rink-mates in the changing room did more for him than those dirty magazines they passed around there.

Palms sweating and dressed to the nines, he stood and waited for the elusive Yuuri Kisagawa to appear. He had absolutely no idea what he would say to her when he would meet her – he hadn’t hit on a woman in his entire LIFE. Still, he was Victor Nikiforov, as far as anyone knew, he was straight, and he could do this.

He knew, even without looking, when she entered the room because something seemed to shift in the air, even if nobody but him seemed to be able to sense it. He turned on his heel, eyes meeting hers across the room. He was closer to her than he had been before, and he was a little surprised to see that unlike the other female athletes, she hadn’t changed her hair-style, was still wearing two small buns on top of her head like during the performance.

The rest of her outfit had changed drastically though. Long, toned legs peeked out under a very, very short black dress. Her feet were clad in red, strappy heels that made something in his gut twinge – that, too was new, but the shoes made her legs look so much longer, so much more elegant.

He found himself idly wondering what her thighs – more voluptuous than the other women’s – would feel like wrapped around his head. Adjusting his tie awkwardly, he put on his best smile and approached her as she stood in a corner, a glass of champagne in her hand.

He didn’t even get near her before he was intercepted by a sponsor of some sort, his eyes tracking Yuuri across the room even as he smiled at the old man before him. He’d get his chance, he knew.

* * *

Yuuri wasn’t even old enough to drink, at least not in Japan. In Russia, nobody cared. People kept handing him champagne and he drank it all, desperately hoping he’d get to talk to Victor soon, so he could LEAVE.

He’d been hit on by more male athletes than he could count and while normally that would have flattered him, NORMALLY he wasn’t dressed in, well, a dress. Nor the heels – Minako had borrowed them from a large-footed athlete from France, apparently, as her own shoes didn’t fit Yuuri.

He had no idea how much champagne he’d drunk by the time he lost his patience, but he knew it was a lot, more than he should have. Past the point of caring, he excused himself from the clumsy attempts of an American runner to hit on him and brusquely walked over to Victor Nikiforov.

The man was talking to a sponsor, or maybe an official of some sort, but Yuuri didn’t care, because he wanted to get it OVER with. So, he tapped the man on the shoulder and waited for him to turn.

Victor Nikiforov was always beautiful, but up close he was absolutely breath-taking. Eyes bluer than they had any right to be, silver hair shining and his cheekbones – absolute perfection. It made Yuuri forget the semi-carefully prepared speech he had about being happy to meet him but having to leave because she was unwell.

“You are going to dance with me.” His stupid, drunken brain instead made him say, and a moment later, he was yanking on Victor’s tie, leading him to the middle of the small dance-floor nearby. It didn’t occur to him that it was odd that Victor didn’t put up any resistance at all.

Instead, Yuuri was yanked around moments later on the dancefloor and immediately pulled into the first steps of a paso doble by the taller man.

“Hello there.” Victor purred as his hands settled low on Yuuri’s hip… oh, he realised, Victor wanted to lead. Not on his life. He easily adjusted the other man’s hands, taking the lead himself – better, much better that way. “You’re a good dancer.” He complimented half-way through a tango, their bodies less than an inch apart.

“Uh… yes. Thank you? You… too?” Yuuri smirked at his tone and dipped the man, uncaring about his supposed disguise as a woman, uncaring he was in a dress… all he cared about was that his childhood crush was putty in his hands, and how sensual the taller man’s body felt against his. He’d worry later, for now, he was having too much FUN!

* * *

Victor wasn’t sure at what point he fell in love, really. It might have been when she declared that they would dance, rather than asking, or playing coy the way women often did… or maybe it was when she yanked on his tie and he followed like a dog on a leash? Who knew.

By the time the vexing and surprisingly quiet woman took the lead – Victor had never met a woman who wanted to lead in a dance – he knew he was absolutely done for. Gay all his life, Victor wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his time dancing with the most amazing woman in the world – as far as he was concerned, the ONLY woman in the world.

He had absolutely no clue how long they danced, but by the time they stopped, his feet ached as if he had been the one in heels as if he had been the one performing rather than the one watching earlier. Yuuri looked like she was no worse for wear… how much stamina did the woman HAVE?

He licked his lips, desperate to find out. Sadly, once they broke apart, another woman – Yuuri’s coach – pulled her aside and started berating her instantly. He couldn’t hear what for – they spoke in rapid Japanese, but he COULD tell that neither of the women was happy.

In the end, the coach yanked her away by the arm, out the door. Victor felt a twinge of fear – he didn’t have her number yet. Stumbling after her, uncaring that he was anything but graceful – his legs hurt, dammit – he followed them out, just in time to see Yuuri free herself of the other woman’s hold.

The coach threw up her arms and asked her to go with her – that much even he could understand. Yuuri, however, had spotted him following them and stalked right back to him.

Victor didn’t have enough time to be happy, to be pleased that she still wanted to talk, and he also didn’t get the chance to ask for her number, because as soon as they met in the otherwise empty hallway, the woman yanked on his tie again – he was beginning to think he was a little TOO into that – and this time, she pulled him lower than before…

Low enough to crash her lips into his. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was rough, demanding, JUST the way he liked it… He moaned quietly as her fingers combed through his hair, adjusting the angle just enough to make it even better, and then he felt her tongue on his lips and parted his own.

By the time she pulled away, Victor could barely remember his own name, and he was leaning on to the wall for support. Then, Yuuri Kisagawa _blew him a kiss _of all things and turned on her heel.

“Wait!” He called out, his voice embarrassingly hoarse. She turned back. “Can I… uh, your number?” Her eyes widened as if in surprise. She opened her mouth to respond, but this time, when her coach snatched her wrist and yanked, she didn’t pull away, following the woman instead.

  
Victor Nikiforov watched the love of his life, the woman he fully intended to marry as soon as possible, walk off without giving him so much as her phone number, her lipstick smeared on his face.

* * *

Yuuri was crying in a changing room for the second time that day. This time, Minako was there with him, gently rubbing his back. He’d… Yuuri had made a spectacle of himself. He’d sobered up quite a bit and suddenly, yanking Victor Nikiforov around like a dog didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore, though it paled to practically assaulting him in the hallway.

Sure, the man hadn’t looked like he’d minded, but that didn’t say much. Sure, he knew it was his only chance to kiss his childhood crush, but that didn’t excuse it either, not at all. He sobbed into his knees while his fingers awkwardly fiddled with his shoes, trying to pry the stupid things off.

Minako helped, handed him a tissue. He tried to ask why she hadn’t stopped him, why she’d LET him act like that… but he knew the answer. She HAD tried to stop him, had called to him multiple times, had done everything short of yanking him out of the room… and in the end, she’d even done that.

No, he couldn’t blame her. The only one to blame for his horrible behaviour was himself, and the only consolation he had was that he would never, ever have to see Victor Nikiforov again. He wasn’t sure yet, whether knowing what the man tasted like, or what he looked like wearing his red lipstick smeared on his lips was a good or a bad thing – he did, however, know that he’d probably spend the next several years of his life thinking about nothing else.

The next time Minako suggested ANYTHING, he swore to himself, he’d turn tail and run the other way. Never, never again, would he agree to something so foolish. His sobs slowly dying down, he uncurled, his tears already drying on his cheeks.

Once again, Minako offered him water and silence – exactly what he needed.

He’d go home, he decided, go home and forget all about the Olympics.

* * *

Four months after the Olympics event, Victor Nikiforov had learned to appreciate those songs that so elaborately described heart-break. He’d gone to the event expecting nothing but boredom… instead, he’d fallen in love, with a woman of all things, and he had absolutely nothing to show for it.

He’d tried to find her, had charmed her hotel room number out of the clerk at their shared hotel, but by the time he’d shown up at the room it had been empty – Yuuri Kisagawa had already checked out.

His next few attempts didn’t go any better. None of the other girls knew her. The Japanese girl had kept to herself, apparently. When his attempts in person didn’t yield any result, he turned to the Internet, but that was even worse. Google searches for her name – and he’d made sure he had it right – showed another girl entirely, for the most part.

The name had to be more common than he thought because the footage of ‘his’ Yuuri he COULD find seemed to mostly be of the Olympics themselves. He also learned that Japanese athletes were apparently notoriously private because he could find NOTHING else.

Not even social media accounts for her, and thus, no way to contact her.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he had cried – a lot. Yakov had been uncharacteristically supportive of him, giving him time to recover, even advice on things he could do to try to find her. For what it was worth, it only made things worse, every failed attempt made him more desperate.

Even his skating suffered from it, and nearly half a year later, he knew he had to get closure, one way or another. He’d considered it, of course, the possibility that she wasn’t interested because unlike her, he was quite easy to contact on social media alone, but he wouldn’t accept it unless he heard it from her own lips, that he swore to himself.

That was why, a love-sick Victor Nikiforov was on a plane to Fukuoka and then in a cab to Hasetsu, Japan several months after the Olympics. It was the only thing he’d managed to find out – that she trained in a tiny village named Hasetsu. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all he had, and he was desperate.

* * *

Yuuri had thrown out every single poster, fan-item and collectable of Victor Nikiforov he owned as soon as he got back home. His family had looked at him strangely, but he’d refused to explain why.

Really, they had had more important questions to ask – such as why in the world their son came back with an Olympic medal, for example. The real Yuuri had, of course, let him keep the medal. Yuuri had all but saved her career because a scandal like drinking and getting hurt would have ended it for sure.

Instead, a few months later, she was back to training for the next competition – a Japan-only event in Fukuoka. The training was a welcome distraction from the thoughts that still tried to sneak into Yuuri’s mind when he let them – Victor’s lips, Victor’s tongue, the heat of his body.

He wasn’t stupid – he knew that if Victor had tried to find him after the banquet, he would have found nothing. The fact that neither he nor his namesake used social media much had worked out beautifully for them both.

Part of him still couldn’t believe it had worked at all, that nobody had caught on. Not even Japanese officials had. It seemed impossible to believe that such a thing was possible, and Yuuri had had a bit of an identity crisis over it. Was putting on a bit of make-up really all it took to make him unrecognisable? That didn’t seem fair.

Still, Yuuri was doing his best to move on, to forget, to perform without Russian lips in the back of his mind.

It wasn’t going all that well, he had to admit in his more honest moments.

* * *

Victor was close to tears. He arrived in Hasetsu JUST in time to find out from a dance teacher at Yuuri’s studio that she was in Fukuoka for a three-day competition. He’d just travelled through the city, but he still got back into a cab and went to the address the teacher had indicated. Buying a ticket online was easily done, and so, the very next morning, Victor sat in the first row to watch Yuuri Kisagawa dance again, and then, hopefully, get to the part of his plan where he’d marry her.

When she stepped outside, he did a double-take. The girl there was definitely announced under the right name… she even wore the same costume, but she was DEFINITELY not the woman he’d fallen for.

She danced the same routines, but she didn’t make them come alive the way ‘his’ Yuuri had. Victor was going mad, he thought. Had it not been for long since downloaded recordings of her performance, he’d have probably had himself committed to some kind of mental facility at the sight before him.

Still, he wasn’t about to give up, not quite yet. The girl’s coach was the same, and it was disturbingly simple to charm his way behind the scenes and ask for directions to the fake Yuuri’s dressing room, only to approach her coach a few steps away from it.

“Excuse me?” The Japanese woman – she looked barely older than the gymnast she coached – looked at him with something akin to horror. “Uh… yes?” “Hi! You remember me from Sochi?” The woman took half a step back.

“Sure. How can I help you?” He grinned. “You can’t, but Yuuri can. I came here to see her again, but see, the problem is-” He didn’t get any further than that, before he was yanked by the wrist, into a changing room. The coach, Minako, her nametag read, thankfully in the Latin alphabet, was glowering.

“Listen, I don’t know what you THINK you saw, but the girl that performed today WAS Yuuri Kisagawa.” He rubbed his wrist. “Then who was at the Olympics?” Minako groaned quietly. “I’ll tell you… if you keep it quiet.”

He nodded eagerly. “Yuuri, this Yuuri, she got… hurt. The evening before. So, another athlete took her place. If this gets out, her career is over, Japan would be a laughing stock… you understand?”

Baffled as he was, Victor still nodded. “Wow! I love plots like that! I can’t believe it worked?” Minako snorted. “Neither can the other Yuuri.” “So… where is she? She’s the one I want to meet. Please? Is she…here? What’s her name?”

Minako took a deep breath. “Yuuri. They… they have the same first name. It was quite the coincidence.” Victor chuckled. “I’ll say. Last name?” “None of your business.” The other woman shot back immediately.

“Please, I HAVE to see her again.” He begged – he wasn’t above begging, not after months and months of desperation. “Sorry, I can’t help you.” The woman bowed lightly and turned to leave, and Victor saw his chance, his one chance, slipping from his fingers.

“Please! I… I fell in love with her that night. I HAVE to see her again.” Minako shot him an almost pitying look. “She’s not interested.” That hurt.

“That’s fine, really. I just… I have to hear it from her. Directly. Please, I’ll do anything.” The coach paused in her path to the door. “Why? This a bit much for one kiss, isn’t it?” He groaned quietly. “You’re telling me? This whole thing is bizarre, I know that as well as anyone. I just… I’ve never ever liked a woman. Yuuri though…”

He realised his blunder a moment later. “You’ve never liked a woman? Are you… gay?” He cleared his throat, trying to think of an excuse, a way to deny it… then he realised that the woman wasn’t judging him, at least not outwardly.

“Until I met Yuuri, I thought so, yes.” The honesty felt oddly good – he’d never told anyone, not outright, not like that. Something in the woman’s eyes gentled. “Fine. There’s an event two nights from now. I’ll make sure you’re on the guest-list, here let me write down the address. Be there, and I’ll make sure she is too.”

Victor wrapped the Japanese woman in a tight hug, mumbling repeated thank yous until she all but pushed him off. It didn’t matter. He’d see her again, his Yuuri. He’d have another chance. Staring at the small slip of paper in his hand, already crumpled a little, he committed the address on it to memory, snapping photos with his phone even, to make sure he wouldn’t lose it. It was the most important place in the world after all.

* * *

“You can NOT be serious, Minako-sensei.” “Oh, Yuuri… sorry, but I am.” “That’s ridiculous!” “What do you want me to tell you? You HAVE to go.”

“But… but…” Minako ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I don’t like it either, but he threatened to expose this whole thing if you don’t show up. All you have to do is put on a dress, NOT get drunk and reject him. Then we can all hopefully move on.”

Yuuri was seething. He couldn’t believe it – for all he’d only spent a few hours with Victor, he did NOT think the man would go that far just to meet him again. He was a bit biased, but he’d thought Victor was a good person. To think that of all the people that could have figured out their deception, it was VICTOR NIKIFOROV that noticed the differences between him and the other Yuuri…

Said girl was currently in tears, terrified she might lose her career after all.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I? We have to protect Yuu-chan’s career.” The girl who had only just celebrated her 19th birthday threw her arms around him, sobbing in relief that he would help her.

For the first time in months, Yuuri managed to forget about Victor’s kiss entirely that day – no matter how good, if he was willing to THREATEN his way into a meeting, he wasn’t worth the money he’d paid for that tie Yuuri had yanked him around with.

Still, when Minako took him dress- and shoe-shopping the next day, he couldn’t help but think that she was having a little too much fun with it all. She bought him a red dress, longer than the other one, and simple black heels, neither of which he liked, but both of which Minako insisted on.

That done, all he could do was wait – wait for the next time he’d have to dress up as a girl to protect his student. Just wonderful.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily so, said day came quickly. With his perfectly boyish hair-cut, Minako once again gave him twin buns and did his make-up, no less… outrageously than before. Red lips and smoky eyes, a knee-long dress on and anger in his heart, Yuuri Katsuki set out to reject his first crush.

Of all the things he’d ever thought could happen…

Victor was easy to spot at the event – already the centre of attention, surrounded by other gymnasts and even their coaches. When their eyes met across the room, it felt electric to Yuuri – more so than it had any right to, given what the man had threatened.

The pure joy though, the relief on his face when they stared at each other gave him pause – those emotions were genuine, and he could see in the clear blue eyes how deep they ran. That… didn’t fit with what Minako had said, not at all.

Of course, he didn’t doubt Minako’s words either – why would she lie? It made no sense.

He bit his lip awkwardly, trying to consider a different angle – maybe Victor was genuinely interested but hadn’t known how to help himself? It still didn’t make it okay, but it was easier to believe than sheer malice.

The way Victor was still looking at him – and oh, he was already hurrying over – Yuuri had to fight to remember the fact that "she" was there to reject him. When he grabbed one of Yuuri's hands – nails covered in red polish courtesy of his namesake’s astonishing polish collection – and pressed a kiss to the back of it, Yuuri realised rejecting him was going to be… difficult.

* * *

Victor hadn’t felt alive since they had parted, he realised when his eyes met Yuuri’s across the room. She was stunning, just like before, in a simple red dress and black pumps, her hair once again in buns. He wanted to know what it looked like open, why she wore it so short… he wanted to know EVERYTHING.

Making some excuse or another to the person he was talking to, he walked over, not once breaking eye-contact. He was proud of himself – he’d spent months researching how to flirt with women, he knew what to do. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, pleased when she flushed a little at the attention. It helped that her skin was soft, sweet almost.

He let go reluctantly.

“Drink?” He offered, remembering her fondness for champagne at the last banquet. She quickly shook her head and he snatched two glasses from a passing waiter’s tray anyway – they were orange juice, not alcohol.

“Just juice.” He commented as he handed her one. She nodded, accepting the glass with her elegant hands – they were slim, long-fingered without appearing all that… feminine. It was difficult to describe but Victor adjusted his tie, remembering how she’d pulled him around last time. He was rather hoping she’d do it again.

Instead, she sipped the juice. If he had to say, Yuuri looked…wary of him. When his flirtiest smile got him no reaction whatsoever, he cleared his throat and pointed towards the open balcony doors to their left.

“Can we… talk?” At that, she nodded and followed him outside into the chilly air. The hotel the event was held at was the nice kind – the balcony was large and relatively secluded. Unbothered by the chill, he took off his suit jacket and draped it around her bare shoulders.

“Won’t you be cold like this?” She asked, her voice shy. The girl was different when sober – no less appealing though.

“I’m Russian, we don’t get cold.” He downed his own orange juice. “So… thank you for meeting me here. You have NO IDEA what I had to go through to meet you again!” He laughed, a little confused when her reaction was a scowl.

“I, uh, I just… we never got a chance to talk last time? I really want to get to know you?” He tried again, and she seemed to soften a little. Well then, he could work with that. “Are you… are you single?” He asked, cursing himself for his desperation.

She didn’t respond, simply snorted and half-turned away from him, watching the night sky.

“Are you a fan of rhythmic gymnastics, Mr Nikiforov?” “Victor, please.” He immediately corrected, then chuckled. “I became one about five months ago. At the Olympics. I hear you were in Sochi for the event?”

He teased her, hoping she’d be receptive rather than close down again. His reward was a smirk from her and nearly endless relief in his heart. Good. Clearly, she didn’t hate him completely. It was… a start. The beginning of a path that would end with wedding bells if he had any say at all.

* * *

Yuuri cursed himself when he missed ANOTHER chance to reject Victor. He’d planned to turn him down when he’d asked to speak in private but had reasoned he didn’t want a scene. Then, Victor had even MENTIONED that he’d threatened his way into a meeting… yet Yuuri still hadn’t been able to say the words.

Victor had asked if he was single – all Yuuri had to do was tell him ‘Nope, married with three children.’ and that would have been it. Instead, he asked if the man liked his sport… and somehow, Victor gave the PERFECT answer, because he’d have known if the other man had lied.

Clad in his jacket, and how was there even a man that thoughtful, Yuuri stared at the stars as they spoke. The stars were safe, they weren’t as bright or appealing as Victor’s eyes… Yuuri realised he was screwed when he had his third glass of orange juice and Victor was jokingly demonstrating a few moves from his next skating program, right there, on the balcony of the nicest hotel in Fukuoka.

Yuuri found himself reciprocating, just a little, even while sober. His dress gave him plenty of mobility, and he knew how to move in painful shoes. Victor looked at him as if he hung the moon and stars in the sky every time, he, well, did anything or said anything, really.

When, a little later, Victor practically _begged_ for his phone number, Yuuri found himself putting it into his phone before he could process what a stupid idea that was. Victor didn’t like him. He liked a female gymnast, and no matter how charming, he wasn’t actually trying to hit on Yuuri… unfortunately though, while his mind understood the difference, his heart didn’t seem to, and his heart apparently had dibs on his limbs as he typed in the number.

The night passed in a blur of laughter, fun and a few not-so-accidental accidental touches, surprisingly many of them initiated by him, because Victor was the literal definition of the perfect gentleman and didn’t push his boundaries at all.

Eventually, when it was time to leave, the most ‘inappropriate’ thing Victor had done was briefly place a hand on Yuuri’s hip in order to mimic a skating move – he didn’t even remember how they’d ended up on the topic of pair skating, but they had.

Yuuri rejoined a beaming Minako after they parted ways, something like lead low in his gut.

“How did he take it?” She asked, eager to hear all about it. Yuuri suddenly wished he’d taken that champagne after all. He said nothing.

“Yuuri? You… you DID reject him, right?”

“Well, if by reject you mean had the time of my life and then gave him my phone number… then yes. And he took it VERY well.” His coach and fellow teacher gave him a look that was equal measures of disappointment and surprise. “Really, Yuuri?”

“I… just… he was so nice, Minako-sensei. We got along so well. He’s the perfect gentleman, and I just…” “What’s your plan? Keep pretending to be a woman? You can’t well come clean at this point.”

He knew that well.

“I don’t know yet. I’m hoping… hoping he’ll go back to Russia. We can text for a while and then lose interest, maybe?”

“Really, Yuuri? THAT’S your plan?” Yuuri flinched under her angry tone. “Look, Minako-sensei, I know I screwed up, but I just… will you help me?” He asked in a small voice, knowing he would NEED her help if Victor wanted to see him again at all.

With a deep sigh, Minako shook her head. “I guess we better buy you some more shoes then.” He groaned, both in relief and apprehension because if there was one thing Yuuri hated about playing a woman, it was those damn shoes.

* * *

Victor was the happiest man on the planet. Even Yakov’s angry yelling via the phone couldn’t change that. Sure, his coach had supported him searching for her, but he had most definitely not approved Victor flying off to Japan in more or less the middle of the season. Victor didn’t care, it didn’t matter because it had WORKED, he’d found her, and he’d had the time of his life - again.

They had laughed so much, had compared skating and gymnastics poses, had spoken so effortlessly… and while he hadn’t gotten a kiss this time, he had something more valuable now – Yuuri’s number.

He stared at the digits for well over an hour before he decided that there was no point in waiting. Clearly, he had already demonstrated how desperate and overeager he was by going to Japan in the first place, there would be no point in trying to pretend to be anything else now.

‘Good morning <3 I had a wonderful time last night. Would you be willing to see me again? Maybe over dinner?’ He texted – it was a good message, it only partially reeked of desperation, really. That was good.

What was even better was that the reply came in less than half an hour. Twenty-three minutes, not that he was counting.

‘I had fun too. Dinner…when? Aren’t you going back to Russia?’

‘Not for a few days. Tonight?’

‘Can’t. Tomorrow?’

‘Tell me where to pick you up.’

Instead of a reply to his last text, he got a phone call this time – that was even better. He picked up immediately. “Hello?” “Uh, hi, good morning. I figured this would be quicker.” She sounded… really out of breath, actually.

“Are you alright?” “Ah, yes. Morning run. Ten miles every morning, sorry. This is easier than texting.” “Oh, yes, of course, I understand! So… dinner, then?”

She chuckled. “Yes, sure. Where is your hotel?” “At the moment, in Fukuoka. I can travel, though.” After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat. “Well, I’m still in Fukuoka today but I won’t be tomorrow? I live in a place called Hasetsu, about an hour’s drive from here…”

Victor knew, of course, but he wasn’t about to admit how much he’d stalked the woman. “Well, I can pick you up there? Are there good restaurants in Hasetsu?” “Sure. Do you like sushi?” “Love it.” He didn’t, but he’d learn. No problem.

“Okay… I’ll text you the address in a bit? I’ll meet you there.” “Yeah, that sounds great. Good. Thank you.” “Uh, sure.” “Good luck on your run?” She laughed. “Thanks!” With that, the call ended, and Victor cursed. Who said things like ‘good luck on your run?’

Still, he had a date. Now all he had to do was not mess it all up. He could do that.

* * *

Yuuri knew what he was doing was wrong, he really did. Some part of him did, anyway. Standing in front of the only nice restaurant in Hasetsu – at least the kind of nice a man like Victor would like – clad in a short pencil skirt and a white blouse, a green headband to match his green peep-toed heels, he was all-too-aware of how CREEPY it was, too.

Once again, the fact that nobody else seemed to question his being female was worrying him – he was perfectly masculine, rhythmic gymnastics aside, thank you very much. He was in the middle of studying a guy that, in his opinion, was far less masculine than him, when a hand tugged on his own and another kiss was pressed to it.

Unfortunately, Yuuri’s legs tangled as he turned in surprise, and, not used to his heels, he started falling backwards before he could react.

  
A strong arm around his middle caught him, holding up in a mockery of the same dance-move he’d used on Victor. The heat in the blue eyes staring down into his own suggested that Victor remembered too. Blushing far too much, he mumbled a thanks and straightened up.

“Uh, sorry for startling you?” He cleared his throat, embarrassed that apparently, he couldn’t even stand up anymore now. “It’s fine. I was just distracted.” “Fair enough. Shall we go in?” He nodded, eager to move on with their date. A date he shouldn’t even BE on because dear god, he was pretending to be a woman in a pencil skirt.

Victor held the door open for him and pulled out a chair for him. Yuuri swooned a little, internally, skirt be damned.

* * *

He felt like a fool when Yuuri had translated the entire menu for him and he couldn’t find a single thing he liked on it. Victor LOVED foreign foods, always had… with the notable exception of raw fish. The taste, the feel of it made him nauseous.

He did his best to look enthusiastic, but clearly, it wasn’t working very well – Yuuri shot him a few amused glances when he kept staring at the menu and not choosing. “You… you don’t like sushi at all, do you?” He flinched at the question, though it wasn’t exactly an accusation.

Hazel eyes were staring at him over the edge of the menu, framed by a few stray strands of black hair. “Well…”

She snorted and waved over one of the two waiters. They exchanged a few words in Japanese before the man bowed and left again. “What… what did you order?” “Ah, something I think you’ll like. Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t – he trusted her. She was adorable – her short hair was held back with a green hairband – he finally realised why she liked those two buns – it was too short for anything else. Still, brushed out of her face, it looked good.

She was in heels again – Victor was beginning to suspect that he was developing some kind of fetish for them. He’d never had the slightest interest in women’s shoes before, but every time Yuuri wore them, something in his gut clenched. It didn’t help, of course, that her pencil skirt only accentuated her ridiculous thighs. They were well-shaped, and, along with her hands, eyes and mouth, definitely his favourite parts of her.

  
“Victor?” “Sorry?” “I asked if you wanted something to drink? Sake?” He nodded, embarrassed he’d been so busy… staring that he hadn’t even heard her. First, the stupid incident where he’d nearly knocked her over and now this? He wasn’t exactly the definition of a dream-date.

* * *

Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri realised, was perfect, and he was in hell, punished for some sin he must have committed in a previous life. Smooth, suave Victor was definitely appealing, but distracted, flushed, pouty Victor was… spectacular.

He hadn’t missed the way his eyes kept travelling to Yuuri’s hands. He wasn’t wearing nail polish this time, so the fact that the man seemed to like his hands felt a little like a victory – his hands weren’t prettied up, pretending to be female. Victor liked something of the ‘real’ Yuuri.

Waiting patiently for their food – a special order he’d only made because he knew the restaurant owner and staff were skating fans and knew of Victor – he wondered how Victor felt about deep-fried food. The waiter, excited to recognise Victor, had been all too eager to offer a variety of things that weren’t on the menu when he’d explained that Victor didn’t like raw fish.

Indeed, when the food arrived, Victor’s face lit up like it was Christmas and his birthday at the same time… and then Yuuri snorted because Christmas WAS in fact, his birthday. At least, the other man hadn’t heard him, too busy eating his way through the half-dozen different dishes he’d been served.

His expression was bright, happy, and so, so excited. Yuuri felt his heart clench, enjoying the man’s reactions almost as much as Victor was enjoying the food.

The realisation crashed down on him like a bucket of ice water.

He was in love with Victor Nikiforov. Not puppy-love, not the stupid crush he’d had as a kid because Victor was pretty… no, between dancing, kissing and talking, he had developed real feelings for Victor. Victor probably even reciprocated them… except, of course, Victor liked a version of Yuuri that didn’t exist… a female version.

He felt like crying and quickly excused himself to the bathroom. Locked in a stall, he did his best to fight off the panic attack he could feel coming. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let himself have one. Absolutely not.

To his surprise… he didn’t. After a few minutes of calm, practiced breathing, he straightened up and left the bathroom again, proud of himself despite his stupid, stupid impossible feelings.

He locked eyes with Victor across the restaurant, just as the door fell closed behind him and smiled weakly.

* * *

Yuuri excusing herself had been a little odd, he thought, but ultimately, he’d ignored it – women did that, probably. He’d heard it anyway – women took forever in the bathroom. It was a stereotype. Nothing weird about it.

Seeing her stumble out of the _men’s_ room was odd though. Had he seen wrong? No, he’d definitely seen it. Had she gone into the wrong room? Was it a cultural thing of some sort? Should he ask? He decided against it when she slid back into her seat and apologised for her disappearance. It didn’t matter, he’d just enjoy their time together.

Enjoy it he did – just like before, they got along in a way he’d never experienced before he’d met her at that banquet. They spent far too long in that restaurant and he way over tipped the server on his way out, not caring in the least.

The only thing that mattered was that they were about to part ways – he’d already ordered his cab back to his hotel. Yuuri was lightly biting her lip – instead of red, her lips were an appealing shade of pink, this time. He wasn’t sure what had her so flustered, not until the cab pulled up and she snatched his head, pulling him down with a surprising amount of force for a woman, and pressed their lips together.

He moaned into the kiss shamelessly – he’d wanted one, desperately, last time, and getting his wish now was no less sweet for it. She tasted of sake, of the sweet sauce she seemed to favour with her food and he never ever wanted to stop.

Unfortunately, he had to, and by the time she pulled back, Victor was a little weak in the knees, stumbling to his cab more than he walked. Best date of his life.

* * *

Minako had gone from angry to amused to concerned when he told her how his most recent date had gone. He understood it well enough – he hadn’t even told her he’d realised he loved Victor, and he suspected she knew anyway.

“Yuuri… I think you should come clean. Tell him. Maybe… maybe he won’t mind?” She offered. He shook his head. “No way. He likes girls. I mean, He’s been… he stares? A lot. At my thighs, my shoes, stuff like that. He definitely likes me… as a girl.”

Minako sighed. “For all you know he could be… bi?” “Even if he was, Minako-sensei, that wouldn’t mean that he likes me as a man. Not to mention, I’ve been lying to him. I had reason to at the Olympics but since then? No way, I can’t tell him.”

“Well, what’s your plan then? Marry him and hope he won’t figure out you aren’t going to give him kids?” He shot her a dark look – not that she didn’t have a point, of course. Groaning softly, he stood – they were taking a break from practice, and he was desperate to get back to it soon.

“You have to figure it out soon!” She yelled after him as he crossed the room in preparation for a move he’d been practicing – a half-somersault, half-flip he could do with both the ribbon and the hoop.

He ignored her words, never mind the fact that she was so, so right.

* * *

Victor knew what he was doing was wrong. Visiting someone at work or at practice was perfectly fine, and not creepy at all. Showing up uninvited, when he wasn’t technically supposed to know where she even trained, that was creepy. Didn’t stop Victor from dropping by her dance-studio though, the next day. He peeked in through one of the windows, relieved to see multiple people practicing – a good chance she’d be there, then.

It was as simple as walking in from the street really, the studio easy enough to find… and as always, his eyes were drawn to Yuuri immediately. She was facing away, clad in a tight practice outfit, her hair open for once.

He was struck by how… masculine her hair looked while open, but there was no mistaking her movements, her hands, her grace, the way she danced, spun, jumped and rotated. Biased as he was, he was sure nobody else in the room was as good as her.

However, his confusion only mounted when he caught her profile – no make-up.

Out of sheer fear that she might see him, he dropped low, crouched underneath the window, cursing quietly. Victor Nikiforov – multiple World Champion winner and Olympian, was spying through a window on a woman he’d gone on ONE proper date with.

He should have probably just stayed gay.

Speaking of that… Yuuri with no make-up on looked… masculine. Not terribly so, but her features were definitely more angular than normal for a woman. Her movements were the same, all feline grace and ‘come hither’ clad in flourishes and spins, but her face and hair…

Victor froze.

He’d seen Yuuri come out of the MEN’S ROOM. Yuuri looked far less feminine without make-up. In fact, when he’d seen her at the Olympics, he’d been struck by the fact that her movements were a little more masculine than the other competitors’.

  
At the same time though, she practiced rhythmic gymnastics and she was literally the best in the world at it. That was definitely a women’s sport – could a man even get that good at it? To fit in so easily? She also knew how to walk in heels and her make-up skills were excellent.

Plus, why would she lie, anyway? Pretend she was a woman when she wasn’t? At the Olympics maybe, but with him… He crossed his legs, trying to figure it out. Was she worried he wouldn’t find her attractive if she wasn’t feminine? He rather thought that might be a problem a girl would worry about.

Maybe it wasn’t about Victor at all and she was trans? But then why would she not bother with feminine looks while training?

Still, he WAS gay, so even if she was just… a masculine-looking girl, it wouldn’t matter. Would he like her better for it? Victor was beginning to get a headache from it all – too many possibilities, not enough evidence. Careful not to get caught, he peeked up again, back into the practice room – Yuuri was still there, still facing away because apparently, the universe was cruel like that.

She – or he? – was instructing another girl – the ‘real’ Olympic Yuuri – on some move, an upright split he’d have to be dead six-months to accomplish or hold. He was flexible but not… that flexible.

Victor fled, straight back to his hotel. He had… thinking to do.

* * *

When Victor didn’t text him the next morning, Yuuri was a little worried – had he done something to anger the other man? He’d thought Victor had been happy when he’d gotten into his cab with a goofy smile but maybe… maybe he’d gotten it wrong after all?

He groaned in frustration, eventually choosing to text him himself.

He may be pretending to be a girl, but he wasn’t going to wait by the phone like one, thank you very much.

‘Would you like to go out to dinner again? I can come to Fukuoka this time.’

The reply came in just a few minutes.

‘I’d love that!!! But, instead of dinner… how would you like to go ice skating with me? ;-)’

Yuuri snorted at the reply – well, he knew how to skate well enough.

‘Sounds good. Do you have a rink in mind?’

The next reply took a few minutes to come in.

‘There is one in Hasetsu? We could meet there this afternoon?’

Once again, Yuuri found himself having to refuse – he wouldn’t be able to get a disguise together that quickly.

‘Tomorrow noon? I have training today.’

‘Of course!! Send me a photo? <3’

Yuuri grinned to himself, walking over to his gym bag and pulling out his ballet shoes. It was simple enough to slip them on, stand en pointe and take a photo, cropping himself off just at his thighs.

From what he’d seen Victor stare at, the other man would like the photo, even if he was wearing long practice slacks. He sent it before he could think better of it.

Victor’s reply was a photo as well – of himself in a suit, on his back in bed, blushing a bright pink he’d never expected to see on the other. Whatever would happen, Yuuri made the picture his screen-saver. Vicchan, his previous one, would understand, he was sure – though Victor probably wouldn’t. The man LOVED poodles.

* * *

Victor was growing more and more confused. It had been a stroke of genius when he’d asked for – and received – a photo. Clearly, Yuuri wasn’t going to show her make-up free face. That… wasn’t conclusive evidence, of course.

She had, however, sent a photo of herself en pointe, and THAT was the way women danced… or male dance instructors. Really, he hadn’t found out anything helpful at all, nothing he didn’t already know – that it HAD been his Yuuri he’d seen in the studio because he recognised those slacks – that Yuuri’s thighs and apparently, also her shoes were a massive turn-on… and that he was helplessly in love with Yuuri.

He realised with startling clarity, that he didn’t even care what gender Yuuri was – he loved him, her, whichever, either way… he just wanted to know because his mind spinning in circles over it was slowly driving him crazy. He considered confronting her, but Yuuri was so shy sometimes – there was a good chance she’d completely break off contact if he accused her of being a guy and she WASN’T. Even if she was, she or he… might. He couldn’t even blame her, really. Or him. Victor sighed.

He’d have to get her to admit it, but that too would only work if… well, if he was right at all. He cursed loudly at his empty hotel room. Hopefully, he’d be able to work something out while skating with her – skating.

Victor had suggested it because he wanted to impress her, obviously. He was the best in the whole world, and man or not, he was going to woo the pants off Yuuri… it would just be nice to know what to expect, sans pants.

Unfortunately, that had him thinking about her legs again, her thighs, the pointe shoes… he groaned and buried his face into his pillow. How far he had fallen…

* * *

Yuuri was just as nervous standing in front of the rink as he had been in front of the restaurant. He’d told Yuuko about what he was doing – she already knew about the Olympics bit – and she had been…well, critical but supportive.

As such, the rink was reserved and completely empty while Yuuri waited, for once dressed in trousers. White jeans, to be precise, paired with a fluffy white jacket and a white hat to hide his hair, along with the customary make-up Minako had put on him.

He felt like an unnecessarily feminine cloud as he leaned against the counter and waited. He didn’t have to wait long – Victor arrived nearly twenty minutes early, a full ten minutes after him.

“Yuuri!” Victor greeted him, a bag with what looked like skates in his hand, dressed in skin-tight practice wear. Yuuri gulped. “Hello, Victor! Ready to skate?” “Of course, my dear! Do you know how, or do I need to teach you?”

He held up his own bag of skates. “I may not be world-class, but I can hold my own!”

Not ten minutes later, they were both on the ice, skating lazy circles and loose pirouettes just to make each other laugh. Yuuri… loved it. He couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had chosen skating, all those years ago. Would he still have met Victor? Gotten to skate with him?

…Would he still have worn an oddly scratchy padded bra under his outfit?

Probably not the last part, he decided as he discreetly adjusted his shirt for perhaps the fifth time.

“Say, Yuuri, would you like me to skate a program for you?” “Huh?” “Well, I packed my skates for a reason, you know!” “And that reason…” “Well, in part to make sure that my coach won’t strangle me when I get back, and the rest of it was in case I came across any cute Olympians I needed to impress!”

Yuuri laughed – unfair as it had been, he was, technically, an Olympian. “By all means, Mr Nikiforov, impress me.” He leaned back against the rink-side, openly admiring Victor as the man stretched a few times and then pulled out his phone, tapping away at it for a moment before setting it down on the barrier and skating to the middle.

He winked at Yuuri and then, as if a switch was flipped, all flirtatiousness, all joking was… gone.

The older man was skating seriously, was moving like it was a competition, like he had something to lose and Yuuri could barely breathe as he watched the elegant, swift movements of it. Victor was stunning, gliding through his steps, flying through his jumps as if gravity was something that didn’t bother him.

Yuuri felt his heart clenching with both pain and admiration at the sight – it felt like only a few moments passed before Victor came to a stop, breathing hard, sweat visible on his brow. Yuuri was SO far gone for him it wasn’t funny.

Forcing a shaky smile, he clapped his hands and smiled brightly. “Amazing!” It was the only thing he could think to say as Victor skated over… it seemed to please the man well enough though, so he left it at that.

* * *

Victor preened – he hadn’t worked that hard in a performance since his own Olympic win. Yuuri had looked absolutely smitten though, so clearly, he’d done well. The date was going wonderfully – skating, he found, was so much more FUN with her there, and that didn’t make sense because all they did was bumble about like kids, but he felt ten years younger for it anyway.

The only negative thing he could say was that he was NO closer to figuring out the secret that was Yuuri. She was dressed in white, her jeans… they looked painted onto her thighs and hips and that ASS – surely, no woman could have an ass that perfect?

No, he scolded himself – they well could, especially gymnasts. It wasn’t any better for his heart that she could skate. He’d known, of course when she’d showed him her skates, objectively, but seeing her in his own element, in the environment that was basically his home, his everything, seeing how she just fit as if she was supposed to be there, it did something to his head and he wasn’t sure if he loved or hated it.

His feelings for Yuuri were less ambiguous of course. He was already planning his next move… a kiss. They were spinning in circles, getting ever closer, laughing all the while when he reached out and pulled her close against him, pulling them into a tighter spin.

She let herself be moved, practically melting against his form and it felt so, so good to have her even just like that. Sighing softly, he stared into those brown eyes, the way they opened a little further, the way her lips parted when he bent down, and then… bliss.

* * *

If he spent the rest of his life kissing Victor Nikiforov, he’d die a happy man, he thought as the older man pressed them together fiercely. Their mouths slotted together perfectly, tongues meeting in a heat that was the perfect counterpoint to the cold beneath their feet.

Yuuri felt like he would float away if it wasn’t for Victor’s arms and so he clung to him, desperately clung to him, hoping he’d never have to let go again. Of course, the world wasn’t that kind to him, and so, when he realised that he was… well, reacting to Victor’s presence, he pulled back and turned away, gasping for breath.

He couldn’t let Victor know – the man would hate him. As warm arms wrapped around his shoulders and a familiar face nuzzled against his neck, he realised Victor probably couldn’t hate him as much as he hated himself already.

Still, he let the skater pull him closer, let him pull their bodies flush against each other and shuddered when Victor sighed against his neck. He was well and truly doomed.

* * *

The rest of their date – after Victor let go of him – went a little more awkwardly. They both kept shooting each other suggestive looks, but mostly because Yuuri was skittish, they didn’t touch again… no matter how badly he wanted to. He’d already done too much, shouldn’t have deceived Victor for as long as he had. It wasn’t right.

Of course, he’d known that already, but kissing the man had really driven home just how… wrong it was. They said goodbye with a hug and Yuuri watched Victor get into another cab with a smile on his face – mirrored on Victor’s beautiful face – before practically collapsing in on himself with regret.

He HAD to end it, HAD to let Victor off gently. The man deserved it. Of course, by the time he got back to Minako’s place and could finally take off that horrible bra, he wasn’t quite so sure he had the determination needed in order to do what had to be done.

He was in love and he was quite sure Victor cared about him too – he didn’t want to break both of their hearts. He also couldn’t keep lying – how would that go? Minako had joked about him admitting it on their wedding night before but…

Then there was the fact that Victor had threatened to expose his pupil if he didn’t go out with him. Of course, that seemed a far cry from the Victor he knew but the risk remained – if he played it wrong, this could well reflect bad on his student, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Back home in his bed, he stared at his phone for a stupid amount of time before finally putting it down – it wasn’t getting him anywhere. Idly sitting by never did.

Yuuri headed to Minako’s studio again for an impromptu training session. Moving always helped him think.

* * *

Victor found himself googling engagement rings on his way back to his hotel. He knew it was dumb. He didn’t even know Yuuri’s last name. Hell, he wasn’t sure she was a she. What he WAS sure of was that he wanted to be with her, more than he’d wanted anything in a long time.

He was also aware that he was running out of time – there was only so much longer he could stay before Yakov would personally come to Japan to drag him back home. He needed a solution – sadly, the only thing his mind could come up with was a spontaneous proposal and asking her to come to Russia with him.

How dumb was that?

She was a rhythmic gymnastics teacher. While there was plenty of demand for those in Russia, he knew well that this idea only worked if his suspicions were unfounded and she was, in fact, a woman.

Homophobic as Russia was, there was no way a male rhythmic gymnast would be accepted. That meant…

Oh.

He nearly squealed when the solution occurred to him. It was so obvious, he wondered how he’d even missed it in the first place. Grinning like the cat that caught the canary, he called Yakov. They needed to talk, and the grumpy Russian was NOT going to like it.

* * *

Yuuri found that for the first time in a long time, training didn’t help clear his mind in the least. If anything, it was the opposite. He knew he had to end it with Victor. That much was obvious. But how to do it… part of him wanted to reveal his true gender, wanted to see what reaction he’d get. Disgust was most likely, of course.

He rather thought that might help extinguish his own feelings for the man… but it would also tarnish the memories they’d built together, and he didn’t want that. A better option was to let the other man down gently.

He could claim he’d met someone else, that he just wasn’t interested in dating someone right now, that he didn’t want to be involved in a long-distance relationship. All perfectly reasonable excuses.

All bullshit, of course.

Yuuri wanted Victor – that was as true now as it had been before. Cursing, Yuuri kicked one of the balls that were lying around the studio – a sparkly golden one.

“What did that thing ever do to you?” The voice of his mentor suddenly asked. Yuuri shot around – Minako was standing in the doorframe, clearly amused… and a little drunk.

“It’s just-” “Victor, right?” She cut him off.

“Is it that obvious?” She shrugged at his question. “It’s all you think about lately. Have you figured out what to do?” He sighed. “I need to end it, I know that. I just… don’t know how.”

“You know… I never thought this would get so out of hand. Or that it would get… so complicated.” With a sigh, Minako sat on the mat next to him. “What do you mean?”

“Well… sit down. There are a few things I should probably tell you.”

A sense of dread settling over him, Yuuri sat as instructed. What in the world was Minako talking about?

* * *

To say Yakov was angry was the understatement of the century. Victor had had to mute his computer several times, afraid he’d get a noise complaint otherwise. It was the single most gruelling conversation he’d ever had with another human being.

Yakov had yelled, threatened, cursed, screamed and just about everything else. Really, it had gone about as well as he’d expected it to – but that was okay. He’d done it. Something so stupid it probably broke some kind of record, if there was such a thing.

Smiling to himself, Victor opened a browser on his phone – he had some shopping to do.

Lots of it actually.

In fact, he spent the majority of his day on it, before, almost as an afterthought, booking himself another place to stay – in Hasetsu. A lovely little inn with an attached hot spring. He booked their biggest suite for a month – that would hopefully be enough for him to find a permanent place to stay. Having all of his orders forwarded there was easy enough – he loved how easy the Japanese made online shopping.

He was itching to head straight there but knew he couldn’t – he needed to talk to his Yuuri first. Even he realised that just moving would be creepy. No, he couldn’t do that.

* * *

“So… you’re telling me he never threatened Yuuri at all? Why did you tell me he did?” Yuuri hissed at his mentor. He was confused, upset, his mind racing. Minako sighed. “He was… when he cornered me he seemed really desperate. I felt bad for him.”

“That’s why you lied to me? Why would you do that?” “Well… would you have met him otherwise?”

“I… no? But that still doesn’t justify it! What did you expect to happen?” The older woman groaned at his question. “I thought…I thought that you’d turn him down, you’d both get closure and you’d laugh about it in a few weeks.”

Yuuri made a high-pitched whining noise instead of giving a verbal response.

“So, what I’m telling you is, you can break up with him without having to worry about him threatening Yuuri’s career. Or… or you could not break up with him?”

“HOW would that work? Minako, I’m a MAN! I can’t just tell him, but I can’t keep pretending either!” “I have it on good authority he wouldn’t mind.” She shot back.

  
“Oh? Wait let me guess he also happened to mention that he’s gay.”

“Well… yes, actually. That’s why I thought that maybe there was a chance for you two.”

Yuuri felt like what little ground he’d been standing on was just yanked out from under him. Victor was…gay? Was Minako telling the truth? Sure, the skater had never really had any public relationships but that wasn’t exactly proof… his head spun.

“Why don’t you just tell him? If he’s as fond of you as he seems-” Yuuri waved her off. “Even if… even if he’d be okay with me being a man, I’ve been lying to him for ages. I mean I’ve been leading him on. There’s no WAY he’d forgive me.”

Without waiting for a response, Yuuri stormed off, hurrying back home. He needed to… he needed to think.

Waving a quick hey to his mother, he headed straight for the hot springs. Only when he was properly sitting back in the water, face covered by a towel as the hot water relaxed his muscles, did he really allow himself to think.

No way he could tell Victor. No way did he have a chance as himself either – female Yuuri knew how to dress, how to present herself – at least, that’s what Minako’s fashion and makeup skills made it look like.

He just liked wearing baggy hoodies and worn-out sweatpants. He wasn’t a good fit for Victor Nikiforov – not to mention the man deserved better.

Moments away from getting up, a splash alerted him to the fact that someone else had gotten into the hot spring. That wasn’t much of a bother to him… except that the new arrival greeted him as he sat down next to him.

Unable to form words, Yuuri nodded, his face still covered by the towel.

He knew that voice.

Why in the world was Victor Nikiforov in his family’s hot spring? Frozen in shock, he did his best not to move. It was a stroke of luck that his face was covered – the other wouldn’t recognise him like this.

He had to fight a hysteric giggle when the realisation that the first time Victor saw him as a man was while they were both naked and he couldn’t even enjoy the sight of Victor. He really had messed it all up badly, hadn’t he?

* * *

Entering the hot spring for the first time, Victor was a bit surprised to find that he wasn’t alone – he hadn’t expected anyone at that time of day. The other person already there was leaning back against the edge of the pool, towel slung over his face.

Victor was glad for it too – he was unrepentantly ogling the other. Well aware that it wasn’t polite, he still couldn’t help but, well ogle. The man’s body was as close to perfect as he’d ever seen it. He had muscle definition in all the right places, with just enough padding to make his mouth water.

Glancing under the water, he gulped at the other man’s thighs – perfection.

Then he shook his head and settled down – he wasn’t here to ogle men… he was trying to woo the woman he was in love with. The woman that was potentially maybe also a man? Glancing over again, he rather thought that if his Yuuri WAS a man, he hoped he’d look like that… only to then immediately scold himself.

It wasn’t fair on Yuuri to compare her to some stranger in the bath. Even if the stranger was hot. Besides, Victor would have loved her regardless of what her body looked like – that he knew without a doubt.

After what seemed like an eternity, the man by his side leaned forwards and, while pressing the towel to his face, stood. Victor half-tried to get a glimpse at his face but he was just out of his sight.

The man’s backside wasn’t – wow.

Watching the man stretch and then casually get out of the bath, Victor actually felt a little guilty – if it hadn’t been for his Yuuri, he’d have definitely asked the other man out. Was that weird? It was probably weird.

* * *

Yuuri managed to walk at a normal pace to the door, but as soon as it was closed behind him, he broke into a dead sprint through the bath, only half towelling off and jumping into his pyjamas before sprinting on to find his parents. He ran into his mother first, whistling away as she carried a crate of beer bottles.

“Mum!”

“Oh hello Yuuri, what’s wrong?” “There! In the hot spring! Why is Victor Nikiforov here?” His mother chuckled. “Oh? The handsome Russian? He rented our best suite for an entire month! He’s very nice, have you said hello? He’s that skater you used to like, isn’t he?”

Yuuri groaned. His mother had no IDEA what he was doing – he didn’t think she’d approve either. That only left him with one option.

“Look, mum, I’m going to be staying with Minako for a bit. We have to work out some routines for the students and it’ll be easier to stay there.” It as a dumb excuse and he knew it – it was less than ten minutes to Minako’s place.

His mother clearly realised this too. “Well, alright then…? Is… is everything okay?” “Yes, mum. I’ll be fine. I just need a bit of time to figure a few things out. Sorry.” His mother gave him a puzzled smile and nodded. “Then… take care?”

Yuuri nodded and started walking towards his room when he hesitated and turned back. “Mum?” “Mh?” “Victor doesn’t like raw fish.” “…Alright. I’ll remember that. Are you sure everything is okay, Yuuri?” “… Yeah, mum.”

And with that, he was off. Darting into his room, he threw some essentials into his biggest sports bag. Some clothes, practice outfits, a few pairs of shoes. Two books, his laptop and his favourite pillow and he was mostly done. After dashing back for his phone charger, he headed straight to Minako’s place.

She opened the door after a few knocks.

“Huh? Yuuri?”

“I need sanctuary!”

After a momentary pause, she opened the door and invited him in.

* * *

Victor was brimming with excitement as he lay awake in his bed that night. Everything was going great. His deliveries would arrive soon, his transport for Makkachin was already underway and all that was left was to tell his Yuuri that he wasn’t leaving… and that he loved her.

Easy, right?

Rolling around in his bed, he fought his excitement. He hadn’t felt so light, so happy, in a long time. Maybe coming to Japan had been what he needed all along?

Looking at apartments and houses nearby, he found himself wondering if it would be weird to invite her to live with him straight away?

Probably.

Not that that was going to stop him from fantasizing.

* * *

Minako was still laughing a good five minutes after he’d finished recounting what had happened at home. He was getting a little impatient with her, actually – he didn’t think it was quite so funny.

At least she’d agreed to let him sleep on the couch for the foreseeable future – in other words until Victor was gone. Why in the WORLD had he booked a room for a month? The man had said that he’d be heading home in a few days and he’d had a hotel in FUKUOKA! It made no sense.

Also, how, of all the hotels in Hasetsu had he ended up in his parents' onsen? What sort of deity had it in for him to let him enter the bath when Yuuri was already there? It wasn’t fair.

When Minako was mostly calm again, they tried to come up with a game plan. They could only avoid Victor for so long, and with Yuuri unable to even go home… well, something had to be done.

The obvious thing to do was to break up with Victor.

They spend a good hour trying to come up with a different alternative but since Yuuri knew he couldn’t risk the truth… well, he had no choice, did he?

So, they planned it all out for the very next day. He’d dress up one more time, meet Victor for coffee and… end it.

His soul hurt just thinking about it.

* * *

When Victor woke up to a text the next morning, he was elated – Yuuri had asked him out of her own volition!

He had just enough time to get ready for the 11 am meeting she’d suggested. Really, it was perfect. He hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, but he was glad for it.

Arriving at the café near the ocean she’d suggested, she was easy enough to spot – a loose blue blouse and a well-fitted pair of white pants, with matching white sandals.

Gorgeous as always. What made him pause was her face – under her immaculate makeup, she looked weary and tired. He didn’t know what, but something was clearly wrong. Gulping, he approached her table, heart sinking into his stomach.

Once she noticed him, she greeted him with a sweet enough smile, but even that expression looked a bit tortured. To say he was worried was an understatement. He quickly sat down opposite of her, well-aware that her hands were trembling.

“Yuuri? What’s… what’s wrong?” He gulped when she flinched.

For a moment, no reply came. Then, tears started gathering in the corners of her eyes. Huge, fat tears were rolling down her cheeks a moment later, accompanied by quiet sobs. To say that every other person in that café was shooting him death glares would be an understatement.

He had no idea what to do – he wasn’t any good at comforting crying people, much less crying women!

“V-Victor?” She eventually asked, voice small. “Yes, my dear?” She hiccupped and he handed her a napkin.

“I’m so sorry, but… but… let’s put an end to this.”

The world stopped turning.

* * *

Yuuri knew he wasn’t doing well when Victor appeared and the first thing he felt was pure joy. The man had barely sat down when he started crying, no matter how hard he tried not to. He’d had a plan, dammit – tell Victor that he just wasn’t up to dating someone at the moment.

It was a good excuse and not one he could argue against. It was, however, dependant on him being able to keep it together.

The other man’s concern was clear as day, as was his panic when he really started crying. It was heart-warming really.

Watching his heart break as Yuuri asked him to end things… wasn’t.

He couldn’t credit the immense pain in his chest as he watched something in Victor’s eyes flicker out. Why hadn’t anyone told him it would hurt so much?

  
The Russian drew back in apparent shock.

“Y-Yuuri? W-Why? All of a sudden? I thought… I thought you liked me?”

Suddenly, Yuuri couldn’t stay there anymore. He HAD to leave.

“I’m sorry, Victor.” He choked out and fled. He was glad he’d worn flat shoes as he’d have broken a leg running in heels. He wasn’t headed anywhere in particular – he just ran.

By the time he ran out of breath and had to stop, he found himself by the side of the beach. Conveniently enough, there was a set of stairs a few steps away and he sat down on them, frantically wiping the tears off his cheeks.

When his hands came back smeared in browns and blacks he realised that he’d accidentally smeared his makeup. Great. A glance at his phone camera revealed that he looked like a drunk raccoon – not that it really mattered.

At least, he tried to console himself, he’d done it.

It was over.

He and Victor were…over.

* * *

Victor Nikiforov had never experienced heartbreak before. He rather thought he could have done without it as he sat there, staring at the seat Yuuri had vacated just moments before. She didn’t want to be with him anymore? What… what had he done wrong?

She’d looked so upset too, it had hurt his heart just seeing her like that.

The tears that dripped onto his fists almost startled him – he hadn’t realised that he was crying as well. It didn’t matter.

Clearly… clearly, something bigger was going on. If she wanted to break up… well, he’d accept that, of course. He had no choice. But… no, he told himself, there was something else going on.

He was missing something, and it HAD to be something big. Dabbing away his tears, he stood resolutely – he was going to get to the bottom of this.

He’d already walked half-way to the dance studio when another thought gave him pause.

What if… what if he’d be bothering her? What if there was nothing else going on and she just didn’t want him? Whatever her reasons were, what if she just didn’t want him around?

She didn’t owe him an explanation, much as he wanted one. Would she feel troubled by his persistence?

He had half a mind to turn around and return to the onsen when he spotted a familiar face across the road. Minako. Yuuri’s coach.

He beelined over, ignoring the near-horrified expression on the woman’s face.

“Minako! I need to talk to you!”

“No, you don’t. Yuuri… I take it you met with her?” He flinched. “Yes. She said… she said she wanted to end it and nothing else. She just ran away crying. What’s going on?”

Minako cursed under her breath – at least that’s what it sounded like.

She gave him a long, searching look, then motioned for him to follow her.

He did, of course. She led him to a bar, closed from the looks of it, and unlocked the door for them. He obediently followed her in and sat on one of the bar stools. When she poured them both a shot of tequila each, he didn’t even hesitate before throwing it back.

Who cared if it was still before noon anyway?

Slamming the shot glass down, he looked at Minako. “Well?” “Yuuri…she didn’t give you a reason for breaking up with you?” “No. She just asked to end it and… ran away.”

“Ahhhhh that child! Always such a pain. What did you come here for?” He thought about the question for a few moments. “I came… I came to see if she was okay? She looked like there was something else going on. I was worried.”

Minako frowned.

“I can’t tell if you’re really perceptive or just don’t know when to take no for an answer.” “It’s not that I won’t accept it. I just… I want to know why? I thought… I thought she liked me?” He watched in fascination as Minako dropped both shot glasses into the sink and reached for whiskey glasses, only to fill them with tequila as well and hand him one. She drank hers in one go – he was impressed, actually.

“I know she likes you. You’re right, there is something else going on.” “Is it… can I help?” He asked, unsure what to say.

“Say, Victor, do you remember what you said to me at the competition in Fukuoka?” He shrugged. “That I needed to see her again? That I didn’t mind the rejection as long as it came from her?”

Minako shook her head. “Nono, not that. The part about you being gay.” He cringed. “I… yes. It’s… a secret? In Russia, being gay isn’t acceptable.” She nodded. “Yeah, I get that. It’s a little better here in Japan – a lot of people are tolerant nowadays.”

“Okay?” He was getting more and more confused. “You see, the thing about Yuuri is… she’s not what she seems.” He sipped his tequila.

“She’s… huh?”

Minako sighed. “Look, I’ve already told you more than I should have. Figure out the rest on your own.”

She snatched his glass from his hands and downed the rest.

“Now get out of my bar!”

* * *

By the time Yuuri felt stable enough to go home, several hours had passed. He hurried back to Minako’s place, avoiding other people as best as he could. His attempts to wipe off more makeup had mostly backfired, so he hardly wanted to be seen in public in his state.

While Minako wasn’t home, she had left him makeup remover out, so he quickly cleaned himself up, took a shower and settled on the couch with every snack she had in her house.

Who cared about staying in shape for work?

He DESERVED it.

Sitting on the couch, stuffing himself with junk food and watching TV series he didn’t even like did a remarkably good job of distracting him from his feelings… for a while. Still, he could only stuff himself with so many crisps and so much chocolate before the feelings came back.

First and foremost there was regret – he hadn’t wanted to hurt Victor. At no point, ever, had he wanted that. He’d… meant to let him down gently. He had. He should have done it sooner, should have never given the other man his number…

He chomped down on another piece of chocolate and wallowed in his misery.

* * *

Victor was sat in another bar – well, a restaurant technically but he was at the bar in the restaurant – getting drunk. It was all he could think to do, really. He knew that Minako had tried to give him a hint, but he couldn’t work out what it was.

He’d hoped alcohol would help – he was mostly through a bottle of vodka and still had no idea what was going on. Why did this have to be so difficult?

It was mid-crisis that he noticed a familiar face walk in – the daughter of the inn-keepers he was staying with. Mary? He thought her name was Mary. Waving at her, he wasn’t sure if he imagined the disapproval in her eyes or not.

“Hey… the restaurant owner asked me to come pick you up and bring you home.” Nearly in tears – how much vodka was in a bottle anyway – he thanked said owner and tipped him with what he hoped was a big bill. It was the nicest coloured one in his wallet anyway.

Then he stumbled after Mary outside. It was already dark – when had it gotten dark?

“About two hours ago.” Mary replied. Oh. Had he said that out loud? “Yes, yes you did. Also, my name is Mari, not Mary. Now come on!” He obediently followed after her, staring at his feet as he did so.

“Why are you so drunk anyway? Did you get dumped?” She asked after a few minutes. “Yes, I did! By the love of my life!” The girl turned around and gave him a surprisingly pitiful look. “I’m sorry. Were you together long?”

“No. But… I love her. A lot.” “That sucks. What’d you do?” “I don’t know. Minako said… she said there’s something going on though.”

“Wait, you’re dating MINAKO?” Mari sounded nearly hysterical. “What? No of course not, I’m dating Yuuri! I was dating Yuuri.” Shoulders slumped, he continued after the Japanese woman.

“Oh… that’s one of her students, isn’t it?” He shook his head again. “No… another coach…” Mari stopped mid-step, causing Victor to nearly collide with her. He just caught himself, swaying a little.

“You… dated a coach? Named Yuuri?” “Yes!” “And SHE dumped you?” “Yes!” Mari gave him an exasperated look. “Yuuri Katsuki?” He gulped. “I don’t know her last name. She never told me.” “Mhm.” Mari groaned and kept walking. They were almost back at Yu-topia.

“KATSUKI!” Victor exclaimed, the realisation hitting him like a brick. “That’s the same last name as you!” “That’s right.” Mari helped him through the entrance. “Is Yuuri your sister?” He asked, as confused as he was excited.

“No. I don’t have a sister. I do, however, have a VERY STUPID brother.” Victor stumbled, falling on all fours. His knees ached the way they always did when he knelt on something hard. Even the alcohol couldn’t numb that.

Wincing, he fought his way back up. “Oh? A brother? What’s his name?” Mari sighed as she half pulled him to his room, only to shove him through the open door. He fell face-first into the bed, and this time he stayed down – mostly.

He managed to half-turn to look at Mari standing in the door.

“His name is Yuuri.”

The door slammed shut.

* * *

When Minako found him, he was asleep in a mess of melted chocolate and crumbs. The noise she made was barely human, startling him out of his sleep and off the couch, thus spreading the mess even more.

He was apologising and tidying even before she could say a word.

“I take it, it went well?” His mentor eventually asked, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Well… I mean I broke up with him.” “And how are you doing with that?” Looking up from the pile of wrappers he’d assembled, he gave her an incredulous look.

“Do I look like I’m doing well?” She shrugged. “Depends. If American chick flicks are to be believed, this is normal. If we use anything else as a comparison… No.” He sighed before throwing his pile away and sweeping the rest of the crumbs and crisps up with a broom from the cupboard.

“What am I supposed to do, Minako? How do I… move on?” “I can’t tell you, kiddo. That’s up to you.”

To be fair, that was about what he had expected. Minako headed straight to bed and after tidying up, Yuuri laid down as well, this time with a blanket and pillow.

He fell asleep quickly – a small mercy, given how emotionally devastated he felt.

* * *

Victor woke up with a massive hangover. Despite his Russian blood, he was far from immune to them and the speed at which he’d pounded shot after shot with no food would do anyone in. It took him a good few minutes to work out which way was up… and then recall the end of his previous evening.

When he did, it shot through him like lightning. Mari. She’d told him that her BROTHER whose name was YUURI was a coach at Minako’s studio. It couldn’t be a coincidence. It couldn’t.

And that… well, it would make perfect sense for Yuuri to dump him, wouldn’t it? If he’d been pretending to be a woman this entire time and was worried Victor would find out… he shook his head. It was still possible that it wasn’t just a disguise and that Yuuri was trans. He might not be out to his family… Victor had to be sure before he took action.

And so, for the second time in as many days, Victor found himself at Minako’s place. He snuck to the studio again (and really, he HAD to stop doing that, he was an Olympian for god’s sake), and hid by the window.

Yuuri wasn’t there – Minako was. Perfect. Straightening his hair and gripping the coffee he’d brought tighter, he walked in. The older woman looked…displeased to see him, to say the least.

With his best press smile, he handed her the coffee cup. “Good morning!” “You again?” “I brought you coffee.” She took it and lifted the lid, smelling the contents. He thanked the stars he’d sprung for some fancy concoction with caramel syrup rather than espresso.

“This bought you two minutes.”

“I only have two questions.” He said, steeling himself for the answers he was hopefully about to receive. “Go ahead.” He took a deep breath. “Is Yuuri trans?” Minako nearly choked on her coffee.

“…No.” She said with a long-suffering look. Victor took another deep breath. “Is… that why he broke up with me?” It felt strange to refer to Yuuri as a he, but now that he knew… nothing had changed. Yuuri was Yuuri.

“Yes.”

Victor was out the door a second later.

* * *

Yuuri woke up feeling like death warmed over. His back hurt from sleeping on the couch, and he felt deeply weary – almost like an emotional hangover. A glance at the clock revealed that he wasn’t just fashionably late for practice, even if he ran he’d only get there half an hour before their students were done.

He decided not to bother. Instead, he went to take a long, hot shower – his aching back thanked him for it, not that it was that much better. Ruefully eyeing the couch, he sat down on it again. He knew he couldn’t hide from the world forever but… but…

Yuuri sighed. No buts. He needed to go outside and talk to people if he wanted to stay sane. Immediately, his eyes snapped to his phone, almost as if to check for texts from Victor. There weren’t any.

Of course not. The man stared back at him from his screen though – he hadn’t changed the background yet, and he couldn’t quite make himself either.

Just then, his phone buzzed – suddenly enough to make him drop it over the back of the couch. Cursing, he fished it back out – his sister. Mari had texted to check if he was okay. It was a bit odd, as she rarely did that, but… he was touched.

He texted back that he was fine, and that he was at Minako’s. He received a thumbs-up as a response – as expected from his sister.

Groaning, he got off the couch and did some simple stretching exercises – just what the small flat had space for. It wouldn’t do to let himself go entirely. Cringing, he thought back to the snacks he’d polished off the day before – the least he could do after nearly eating his weight in junk was some basic exercise.

* * *

Victor was tall, but by no means exceptionally so. Not in Europe anyway. In Japan? He might as well have been a giant. Most shops, as he found, didn’t even come close to carrying anything in his size. The few that did… well, he hadn’t exactly found anything that he liked the look of on himself.

He’d taken a cab to Fukuoka in order to be able to shop for what he needed, but after over two hours, he hadn’t had any luck yet. Still, he wasn’t about to give up.

No way.

He had a mission and he’d see it through, no matter if he accomplished his end goal or not. With renewed determination, he rode the escalator up to the next floor of the shopping centre. He’d find the perfect outfit, he just had to.

* * *

After going for a run and then another shower, Yuuri resigned himself to another evening on the couch, when his phone buzzed yet again. Expecting his family or perhaps Minako, he nearly fell off the couch when he saw that it was from Victor.

Why he hadn’t blocked the man… no, he knew exactly why he hadn’t. For the same reason he hadn’t changed the background picture and for the same reason his chest ached.

Fingers shaking, he opened the text. It was simple, to the point. It was terrifying.

‘Can you meet me at your studio tomorrow at 11?’ He knew his schedule – he’d be there at that time anyway.

‘I don’t think that’s wise.’ He texted back, having to retype the words several times. The response was nearly instant. ‘Please.’ Clutching his phone to his chest, Yuuri tried to think – should he agree? Dress up again? Meet the other man as his real self? Had Victor figured it out?

Another text message. ‘I know. So… please.’

Oh.

Oh God.

If he knew then… no, he wouldn’t ask to meet at the studio if he was angry, would he? It didn’t make sense. If he just wanted to yell, he could do it over the phone or in public. It… made no sense. What did the other man want?

He tried typing out just that question, but his treacherous hands sent a simple ‘ok’ instead. Yuuri switched his phone off.

Why was all of this happening to him? Surely, wanting to help out one of his students shouldn’t bring with it so much trouble? Weren’t good deeds supposed to be rewarded?

He switched the TV off and pulled his shoes on again – he wanted to head to the studio and get some proper training in after all. He needed to clear his head and rhythmic gymnastics had always been perfect for that.

Well, most of the time.

This time, it wasn’t. The vice around his heart didn’t loosen, the worry about the next day didn’t fade. He worked out until he was tired before heading back to Minako’s. His coach gave a small wave as he passed her and headed straight for his second shower of the day.

He dearly missed his parent’s onsen, but with Victor there… no, he couldn’t risk it. Maybe after their meeting.

Maybe.

* * *

Victor wasn’t sure whether to be elated or terrified after Yuuri’s response. Of course, he could have just turned up uninvited, but… he had to know if the other man wanted to see him at all. If Yuuri had rejected him, he’d have not troubled him further, but if there was even the slightest bit of a chance…

He had to give it a try.

Staring at the clothes cover that was carefully hung on the door of his cupboard, he gulped. He’d been elated when he’d made his find – it was the perfect outfit for what he was looking for.

He’d felt so lucky when he’d come across a shop assistant that told him that while their location didn’t carry anything like what he needed, her brother had a similar frame and taste, even, and that there was another shop only a few minutes that carried what he needed.

He’d practically flown there, to a small corner-shop off the regular shopping street. The owner, a short, older man with a truly remarkable beard for an Asian man had been happy to help him. Finding the right outfit had been easy – the old man had even had a pair of shoes that went with it! Thus decked out he returned to the onsen happy.

Staring at the bag now though, he was worried – what if Yuuri thought it was stupid? What if he thought it was over the top? People said he was over the top all the time… would Yuuri think so too?

Steeling his resolve he shook off his worry. It didn’t matter. He’d see this through. He was Victor Nikiforov – if he could win consecutive world championships, he could damn well dress up to see Yuuri the next day.

Yuuri felt like he was headed for his execution as he walked to the studio at 9 am – his usual time. The girls were all too happy to have him back, but he just counted the minutes to 11, unable to focus on anything else. Minako noticed, but let it go – he hadn’t told her he’d agreed to meet Victor.

Five minutes to eleven, he was close to bolting. The tension was worse than what he’d felt before the Olympics. Then the clock struck 11… and no Victor in sight. He felt foolish for having put on his nicest training gear, and for having slicked back his hair in a way he knew made him look good. Clearly, Victor wasn’t coming after all.

Had the other changed his mind? Was that a good or bad thing? Yuuri waited, not so subtly staring at the clock in one corner of the studio. 11.05 – nothing. 11.10 – nothing. Around 11.15, a hushed whisper ran through the studio and caught Yuuri’s attention – why were his otherwise chatty students suddenly so quiet? The only sound other than the whisper was the sound of unfamiliar footsteps on the ground.

For a moment his heart clenched as he considered it might be Victor… but no, he scolded himself. It was distinctly women’s shoes that he heard. Probably a parent or… something. He wouldn’t have turned from the clock if it hadn’t been for someone clearing their throat, and quite deliberately so.

He spun around and time stopped.

Victor Nikiforov was standing a few steps away from him – a little flustered and a lot out of breath. He was wearing… he was wearing a gown, though the word hardly did the outfit justice. Made of mostly see-through glittery fabric, the dress seemed to hover around the man rather than touch him. The base dress was a very dark blue, while the puffy, cold-shoulder sleeves and the coat-section of it was a lighter blue. Gold chains held the coat parts together, also decorating his shoulders.

Underneath the slit dress, Yuuri could just make out what looked like high heels – the sound he’d heard.

Forcing his eyes back up to Victor’s face, he noticed that the man was wearing makeup too – not a lot, but enough to be noticeable. Lipstick, and eyeshadow.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t realise how difficult it would be to walk in these shoes.” Victor eventually broke the silence that had enveloped the room when he’d turned. When Yuuri didn’t respond – couldn’t respond – Victor ran a hand through his hair, making the sparkly dress flutter around him just a little.

It really had no business looking as good on him as it did, Yuuri thought before snapping out of it. “I, ah, are you mad that I’m late? I really did try to hurry.” Thinking back to how the man had been out of breath, Yuuri shook his head, still too shaken up to respond.

He wasn’t mad – he was confused.

Minako’s whistle drew his attention to her – years of conditioning. “Alright girls, let’s give these two some privacy. Yuuri, you have ten minutes. Some of the people here have better things to do than watch you two make doe-eyes at each other.”

With that, his students and his teacher departed, leaving him alone with Victor Nikiforov.

Who was wearing an evening gown.

If he’d had a thousand years, he couldn’t have guessed that THIS was what would happen at their meeting today.

“Yuuri? You’re being very quiet.” Nodding again, he tried to come up with something – anything – to say. “You, uh, look lovely?” He eventually offered. It seemed like a safe thing to say anyway.

The Russian grinned. “Thank you! You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find a store that had dresses in my size – I ended up finding this drag outfitter and this dress just seemed so perfect-” He broke off mid-sentence, a small smile playing around his lips.

“Never mind that though. You… you look good too.”

Almost reflexively, Yuuri straightened up – he’d forgotten that this was also Victor’s first time seeing him out of his female getup.

What in the WORLD was going on?

* * *

Victor hated high heels. Wobbling down the hallway to the studio had been bad enough, but standing around for longer periods of time was torture. Still, Yuuri had complimented him – that was good. Well, he thought so anyway.

He’d actually been glad for the fact that the other man had been so tongue-tied – he had been as well. He’d caught glimpses of Yuuri in his practice clothes and of him without his makeup on, but to get the full view… Victor had needed a moment to take it all in. Yuuri Katsuki was beautiful.

Smoothing out a section of his dress, he gathered his courage to speak. “Yuuri… I figured out why… why you broke up with me. It took me a bit, but when I worked it out… I just wanted to tell you that I understand why.”

Yuuri cleared his throat. “You came here… in an evening gown… in order to tell me you understand why I… did what I did?”

Victor shrugged, making the chains on his outfit shift a bit. “In part. I also have some other things I’d like to say… but only if you’re willing to listen. If not, I’ll leave. I just… I had to make sure you weren’t upset with yourself. I’m not… mad. I get it.”

Swallowing, he shifted his weight, the shoes growing more and more uncomfortable.

“What did you want to say?” Yuuri asked, his voice low. Victor felt like a weight had dropped from his shoulders. Yuuri was willing to hear him out at least. That was… good. Better than he’d hoped for, really.

“First of all… I wanted to tell you that I’m gay.” Yuuri’s eyes widened but he said nothing. Victor’s hands clenched into his dress as he continued. “You… were the first woman I fell in love with. I watched you dance at the Olympics and I couldn’t help it. When you agreed to see me again, and when you then seemed to… to like me back, I was over the moon.”

Smiling at the memories, he waited for a reaction from Yuuri. When none came, he continued on. “I actually… well, I suspected? That you weren’t a woman? I saw you use the men’s room once, and when I stopped by the studio once I saw you without makeup, but I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you were trans, or something like that but… well, Minako told me you weren’t.”

“What are you trying to say?” Yuuri questioned quietly.

Taking a wobbly step forward, then another, Victor grasped Yuuri’s hands. “Just! Just that I don’t mind. And I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind when I thought you were a girl, nor when I found out that you weren’t. Whether you’re trans or just like wearing dresses – I don’t mind any of it! I just… I want to be with you, Yuuri Katsuki.” Victor said, hands tightening on Yuuri’s.

* * *

Yuuri felt like he’d lost the plot some time ago.

Surely he had to be dreaming or at least insane? Victor Nikiforov couldn’t REALLY be here, in front of him, saying all of those wonderfully tempting things? It made no sense. Still, he didn’t draw back, kept his hands in Victor’s.

“But I lied to you.” He forced out eventually.

“In order to protect your student, right?” So the other man had worked it out. He gave a small nod. “That’s fine. I understand. Really. You had to pretend for the Olympics and after that… you didn’t know me well enough to trust me with your secret. I understand.”

“But… you knew I wasn’t a woman?” Victor shrugged.

“There were clues. I wasn’t sure. But Yuuri, I don’t care either way!” “How can you say you don’t care that… that I lied to you? That I’m not a woman?”

Victor tilted his head, seemingly mulling something over for a second before letting go of his hands. “To tell you the truth, I’m quite relieved. I know absolutely nothing about dating a woman!”

“But you’re a great date!” He blurted out before he could stop himself, hardly able to credit how incredibly happy the Russian looked at his words.

“Yuuri! Does that mean you want to date me? As… yourself?” “But you’re going back to Russia, aren’t you?” The other man’s smile only widened.

“Actually, I’m not. I’ve already made arrangements to have my Makka flown over here, and I’ve rented a room at the onsen for a month. That’ll give me time to find my own place.” “Your training?” Victor waved him off. “I’ll record myself and send videos to my coach. He’ll understand.”

Yuuri nodded again – it seemed to be the only thing he was capable of at the moment.

“So… what do you think?” What did he think… of what? Yuuri felt like he’d missed something important.

“What do I think of… what?” Victor gave him a slightly impatient look.

“Well… do you want to date me? If not, I understand, but if this whole crossdressing thing was the only reason…” He waved his hand in the air.

Oh.

Did Yuuri want to date Victor again?

“I’ve been in love with you since I was 12 years old. I used to have posters of you in my room.” He blurted out, only to immediately slap his hands over his mouth in horrified shock. Why was he LIKE this?

* * *

Well, it wasn’t quite how he’d envisioned the conversation going, but he was starting to accept that that was just what being with Yuuri was like. Beaming like all his wishes had come true – and they just had! – Victor swooped in to give his Yuuri a hug – sadly, he forgot about his dress.

Even his skating-honed reflexes couldn’t save him from falling, and right towards Yuuri at that. Apparently, though, the other man was far more together than he was and caught him.

A firm arm wrapped around his waist, while another grasped his outstretched hand, just stopping it from potentially hitting Yuuri in the face. The other caught him gently, just a foot or so off the ground.

Both were frozen in that position for quite a while – after a moment, Victor felt himself flushing. The position they were in was so much like when they’d danced at the banquet – even the way Yuuri had dipped him… dear god how had he EVER doubted that Yuuri was a man?

He nearly swooned when Yuuri effortlessly lifted him back up without letting him go. They ended up pressed closely together – Victor towering over the already shorter Yuuri because of his heels.

“Can I just confirm something?” The Japanese man asked after a few moments.

“Mh?”

“You, Victor Nikiforov, want to date me, Yuuri Katsuki. You’re willing to forgive me for lying and… you don’t mind that I’m a guy. And you… bought and put on a dress and high heels in order to tell me this?”

Victor cleared his throat. “Yes to all of that. The dress… I just wanted to prove that I’m serious. I didn’t want you to think… that it was just something I was saying.”

For a moment, Yuuri’s expression stayed blank… then the other man exploded in laughter.

He practically doubled over, holding his mid-section as he laughed and laughed and laughed. Victor wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing… but he suspected it may well just be nerves. His own were fluttery enough – he could only imagine how Yuuri felt.

After what seemed like an eternity, Yuuri straightened up and wiped a small tear from the corner of his eye.

“Victor… do you have ANY idea how ridiculous all of this is? So much drama and this… everything!”

He wasn’t sure whether Yuuri’s laughter was a good thing or a bad thing. The many, many times he’d been told he was ‘just too much’ rolled through his mind…

“This is all just too much!” Yuuri declared, making Victor’s blood run cold. Words frozen in his throat, he simply stood still until Yuuri continued.

“All of this? I didn’t need any of it. I ended things because I couldn’t keep lying to you. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I lied to you, but Victor… you didn’t need to do any of this. All I needed… all I needed was you. Just you. Not a dress, not high heels, none of it.”

Relief surged through him in an almost physically painful wave.

Oh.

This time it was Yuuri who reached out, carefully wrapped an arm around his middle and pulled him closer. He allowed it, of course, pleased when once again, they were pressed against each other. Yuuri met his eyes, a steely determination that made Victor feel a little faint in his eyes.

“If… if you’ll really have me, I’d love to be yours. And… I’d love it if you stayed in Hasetsu too. Victor… I’m sorry I made all of this so complicated.” Spellbound, he shook his head.

“It’s… fine. Of course I want you. So… we can be together? You want me to stay?”

“Yes.” Yuuri’s reply was a mere whisper, but it was all Victor had wanted to hear. Suddenly unable to stop himself, Victor bent down and pressed a firm kiss to Yuuri’s lips. The other man tilted his head back and responded eagerly, all the while still having his arms wrapped around Victor.

It was heaven.

* * *

Yuuri was in heaven. He felt like he could kiss Victor forever when a sound distracted him – it sounded like cheering. Muffled but extremely enthusiastic cheering. Victor heard it too and pulled back, looking around in confusion.

They both spotted the source at the same time – the window that connected the hallway to the studio wasn’t empty – pretty much all of his students, Minako and the receptionists had their noses pressed against the glass and were wildly cheering. For a moment, Yuuri hoped Minako would put an end to it… then he realised that she was one of the most enthusiastic voices of the bunch.

With resignation, Yuuri realised that he was never going to live this down.

“Do you think we should continue this somewhere more private?” Victor suggested after a few moments.

“We better. What did you have in mind?” He asked as he quickly gathered his stuff. “I don’t know… lunch? All of this worrying made me skip dinner last night.” Yuuri smiled softly. “That sounds great.”

“Ok, so we’ll just have to stop past the onsen first so I can change-”

Grinning, Yuuri turned back to Victor. “Change? But why? You look lovely!” The shock on Victor’s face was something Yuuri would savour for the rest of his life.

“But! These shoes, they hurt!” Grin widening, Yuuri nodded. “Oh, I know. I’ve worn several pairs of them. It’s only fair you get to experience it this time.”

“But Yuuuuri!” Victor whined as he followed after him out of the studio – through the door that WOULDN’T lead them past the cheering mob of women that had watched them, thank you very much.

Yuuri was still laughing when he hailed a cab and helped Victor and his ridiculous gown into it. No way was he letting the other man change out of that outfit without first taking him on a proper date.

It was only fair.

Given that he didn’t protest much more as they drove to one of the nicer restaurants in Hasetsu, Yuuri rather thought the Russian man agreed.

Holding hands with Victor Nikiforov on the way to their date, Yuuri thanked whatever deity had made him stand in for his student all those months ago. Clearly, good actions were rewarded after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Reference for Victor's dress: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/98/d9/c8/98d9c8b22aa567b2a453c7fce82ef89b.jpg Could not find OP but apparently done by Yakikesen on Twitter.


End file.
